Magic Room
by blue3ski
Summary: Due to popular demand, Roman Reigns decides to open his very own hair salon. Coming from the crazy world of WWE, though, he should have known he was in for a ride. Featuring Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose as his special projects; Adam Rose, Fandango, and Corey Graves as his hairdressers; and a few unexpected customers.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This fic was inspired by a conversation with 's WynterWarm12, a.k.a my halfie. The title is taken from the song "Magic Room" by 183Club (my main musical inspiration for this story. The song. Not the band).

Disclaimer: While I do wish I did, I own none of these characters. Not even Seth. Or his hair wouldn't be this tragic today.

"_If there is magic in the world, the first thing people will do is to use it to become beautiful." –The Magicians of Love, Episode 1_

"You did it! You really did it!" Seth bounced up and down from excitement as he gazed around the large salon with eager eyes.

Roman smirked and smoothed his already-perfect ponytail. "Did you think I was kidding?"

"You wouldn't share your secrets for so long," Seth pouted. "I stopped believing."

"And you'll be the first to, like I promised." Roman reached out and straightened Seth's tie. "Besides, didn't you learn anything from Hunter? If I'm going to share, I might as well profit from it. Best for business."

"This is nice and all," Dean drawled from his spot on one of the white velour couches, "but I still don't get why I have to be here." His blue eyes were sulky behind his gingery curls. "And why I have to be here in this suit."

Roman gave Dean a once-over, seemingly satisfied with his getup. "Come on, Dean. It's my big day. I want my brothers here with me."

"Yeah!" Seth flopped down onto the same couch and nudged Dean with his shoulder, widening his eyes when Dean turned to look at him.

"Fine, whatever," Dean grumbled. "But this is it, alright? I'm not coming in here again." He let out an exaggerated sneeze. "All this hair spray will kill me."

"Wouldn't force you, man," Roman assured him. But Dean didn't catch the devious glint in his eye as the three of them made their way outside for the official launch.

* * *

The cheers were deafening when Roman stepped in front of his new establishment with a large pair of scissors. Coolly, he raised a hand to acknowledge the reaction. At the fore of the crowd, Seth whooped as he pulled out his phone and pushed it into Dean's hand. "Quick, record this!"

"Why can't you do your own recording for once?" Dean whined. But force of habit took over, and as he had done for Seth countless times in various gyms, he lifted the phone and adjusted the video settings expertly.

"That's why," Seth replied. "Plus, I have to concentrate on cheering."

In front, Fandango was making his way toward Roman. He paused to flick a stray lock of hair from his eyes and to adjust his shiny blue pants. As some teenage girls at the rear squealed, he poured some smolder into his gaze. Behind him, Adam Rose tossed his shoulder-length hair, tugged at his leather vest, and waved.

"Where's Corey?" Roman hissed under his breath. "Didn't I say that all my hairdressers had to be here _on time?_"

Adam and Fandango looked at each other and shrugged. "Wasn't he at the Ascension's party last night?" Adam ventured.

Fandango looked at him with disdain. "Don't be ridiculous. And dude, how does the Ascension even know how to party?

"Even weird culty guys have to know, right?"

"They've probably sacrificed him." Fandango sounded appalled. "And turned him into one of the undead."

"I don't really care where he comes from," Roman interjected dryly. "Even if he's been turned into a vampire, he's coming HERE. One of you call him."

"OK OK." Just as Adam hit the call button on his phone, they heard the roar of a motorcycle. Everyone turned to stare as the bike screeched to a stop just across the salon. Corey Graves whipped off his helmet and greeted them all with a scowl. Paying the onlookers no mind, he stomped up to join his colleagues.

After shooting a glare at his employee, Roman faced the audience and cleared his throat. "I had a dream," he announced. "A dream that everyone would be able to achieve beauty." In a swift motion, he released his mane of hair, and everyone oohed and aahed. "For years, my hair has defined the standard of beauty for most people. From today onwards, you will all have the chance to maybe meet this standard." He raised the scissors triumphantly like a championship belt. "Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to the Magic Room." With a flourish, he cut the ribbon to a wave of thunderous applause.

The crowd surged forward, and Seth quickly pulled Dean out of the way and to the side. The four guys in front stumbled back from the sudden onslaught. "Please!" Roman yelled. "Form a line! Everyone will get a turn!"

Seth watched, unperturbed, as everyone tried to arrange themselves amidst a great deal of squabbling and elbowing. Beside him, Dean stopped the recording and slipped the phone back into the inside pocket of Seth's jacket. "Well, guess that's my cue. See ya."

Seth's hand snapped out and caught Dean's wrist. "You can't go yet!"

"Roman said I could!"

"You have to stay until the ceremony is over!"

"It's already over!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is! He's getting mobbed!"

"Whew." Roman's deep voice interrupted their argument. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. "Whew."

Seth looked at him with wide-eyed concern. "Need a hand? See, Dean, he needs help!" He tugged on Dean's arm.

"Nah, I have the boys taking care of it." Roman inclined his head toward the salon door, where his hairdressers were panicking as they tried to avoid getting trampled. Well, Adam and Fandango, at the very least—Corey had pulled out a shaving blade and was nonchalantly twirling it, forcing everyone to keep a respectable distance from him.

Roman looked back at Dean. "Are you going?"

"Yeah," Dean yanked his wrist out of Seth's grip. "Good luck and everything, man."

Roman clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "OK…if you don't want to stay. That should leave more free food for everyone. Can't remember if I told you, but I got chicken wings. Just for you."

Dean's ears perked up. "Oh." He shuffled his feet. "I could have a few of those before I go."

"You can have as many as you want—that tray has your name on it."

Dean licked his lips. "What are we waiting for? Let's go in!"


	2. Chapter 2

_"Come into the Magic Room, and you will find that nothing is impossible." -Perfect Lover, _183Club

* * *

With Corey's help, Adam and Fandango had finally managed to organize the crowd into a squiggly line. As Roman led Seth and Dean past it, girls erupted into screams. Seth turned to bask in them, but Roman and Dean pushed him forward.

"Hey!"

"Stop feeding them, Seth," Roman commanded.

"But—"

"No buts. If we let you stop, you'll never leave. Move."

Seth rolled his eyes at Roman from over Roman's shoulder.

"I saw that."

"How can you even—"

"_Go in_, Seth," Dean interrupted. "I want my chicken." Seth gave up and did as they asked.

Inside the salon, caterers had just finished putting the final touches on a giant spread of pizza, pasta, and chicken. The air was filled with a savory scent. Dean immediately released Seth's waist and made a beeline for the buffet table.

"Let him have all the chicken," Roman instructed the waiters. Dean staked out the couch he had been sitting on earlier, looking like he was planning to nest there.

"Don't mind me," he mumbled around a mouthful of food.

Roman led Seth to his best chair. "So Seth," Roman began, "how good are you at sitting still?" He ran his fingers through the blond half of Seth's hair and winced.

"Um…" Seth suddenly sounded unsure. "Pretty good?"

"Let me ask that again—how good are you at sitting still _and_ straight?"

"That bad?" Seth squeaked.

Roman grimaced. "Let's start at three hours…"

"I don't have three hours of time to waste," a sharp female voice stated. Swallowing hard, Roman turned to the door. Stephanie McMahon was standing there, arms crossed. Behind her, Adam, Fandango, and even Corey had frozen in the middle of leading their first clients inside. Only their eyes moved, shifting back and forth between their boss and THE boss of the WWE.

"Hang on," Roman murmured to Seth. Adjusting his jacket, he stepped forward to meet her. "Thanks for gracing us with your presence, Stephanie. Of course you don't have to wait three hours—Adam and Fandango can prioritize you." He snapped his fingers.

Stephanie held up her hand. "I don't want them to do my hair. I want _you_ to do it."

Roman looked back at Seth. "But I've promised Seth—"

"Whatever you 'promised' Seth can wait."

"What's going on?" Triple H walked through the doors and put his arm around his wife's shoulder. He smiled genially at Roman.

"Yeah, what's going on?" Seth had left his perch and come up beside Roman. It was barely there, but Roman could hear an edge in his voice.

"I'm getting my hair done." Stephanie was looking straight at Seth with a smirk. "Aren't I, Mr. Reigns?"

Roman was sweating worse than when he'd been nearly mobbed, but Seth didn't flinch. "I was here first. I've been first since 2012. Get in line."

There was a collective "Oooh!"

"Seth!" Roman hissed. Seth ignored him and stepped around him. Stephanie removed Triple H's arm and came practically nose-to-nose with Seth.

"I am the Billion Dollar QUEEN," she retorted, enunciating each word. "And what I want, I GET."

"I'm not giving you ANYTHING." Seth gave her a once-over. "You're past your prime, and no amount of treatment can make you look good."

Roman's forehead was creased now. Beside him, he heard the clank of metal—Dean had risen from his couch, tray of chicken in hand. The entire salon had gone so quiet, they could hear him still chewing.

"You little…" Stephanie hissed.

"What? What?"

"Those Internet theories are right. He's got a death wish." Adam whispered to Fandango.

Dean put a greasy hand on Seth's shoulder as if to pull him back. Roman, on the other hand, found himself staring down the bridge of a rather large nose.

Triple H's voice was menacing. "I didn't come here to deal with a circus, Roman. I DEMAND that you put things in order."

"There's only one way to settle this," Seth was saying.

"You're on," Stephanie responded.

Without warning, they whirled and ran straight at the vacant salon chair. Stephanie got to it first and started to sit down, but Seth bumped her out of the way with his rear.

"They're going to break my CHAIR!" Roman moaned.

There was a click, and the opening notes of a Backstreet Boys song broke the general silence. At the sight of Roman's narrowed gaze, Fandango slowly sidled away from the sound system.

But the music was already doing its job. With intensified vigor, Seth and Stephanie resumed their heated war for the chair. Its arm creaked, and Roman looked as though he was in actual physical pain.

"You will not disrespect me with that hideous rag you call hair!" Stephanie screeched.

"You sound worse than Vickie Guerrero, and you don't dress any better!" Seth tossed his head and flicked his bleached blond hair directly in Stephanie's face. Stephanie's eyes were practically bugging out now.

"Roman!" Triple H roared. Roman completely ignored him—he had been reduced to merely pointing at his chair with a shaking finger.

The music suddenly stopped and was replaced by the whooshing sound of a hair dryer. Everyone turned to Corey, who was holding the hair dryer in question. He seemed surprised, and his green eyes flickered around the room until they settled on Seth.

Something seemed to click in his brain, and he grinned. "Carry on."

In a flash, Stephanie shoved Seth to the floor with a triumphant grin and settled herself in the chair, smoothing her brown hair back. Seth stared up at her, mouth agape. Then he looked at Corey, who had flicked the music back on with a smirk.

"Ro!" Seth whined in desperation.

"Hey, you lost fair and square," Triple H chortled. "Are you going to challenge the rules of Musical Chairs?"

Roman and Dean (still holding onto his tray) went to help Seth up. "He's right though," Dean quipped. "The rules of Musical Chairs are sacred."

"But—Corey cheated!"

Corey had raised his eyebrow dangerously. Roman covered quickly. "You'll be next, I promise," he assured Seth hurriedly. "It won't take long."

"You better do your best," Stephanie commented from behind them. "_As long as it takes._"

"Come on, you can stay with me." Dean hooked his free arm around Seth's waist. Defeated, Seth leaned against him.

Suddenly, the lights went out. The people in the salon screamed, and Seth grabbed Roman's arm.

Roman groaned. "I'm pretty sure I paid the utilities! Where's my accountant?"

There was a flicker of candlelight up ahead, and a raspy voice spoke.

"Roman Reigns…we're here."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Sorry for the delayed update! This should have been up a couple of days ago, but alas, three straight days of sleep deprivation were unfriendly to me. Enjoy the chapter-I've made it a bit longer than usual.

"_Toward things that are not beautiful, I feel absolutely nothing." –The Magicians of Love, Episode 1_

* * *

Bray Wyatt blew out his lantern and the lights turned back on.

"How does he do that?" Fandango whispered to Adam. "Does Sister Abigail work at the power plant or something?"

"Doesn't she work at the phone company?"

"The _PHONE_ company?"

"Yeah, dude. How do you think he gets Internet over there? He lives in a swamp!"

"Maybe she has a split personality," Fandango mused. "Like, she works at the power plant during the day and the phone company at night. Like Tyler Durden."

Adam looked floored. "That's got to be it! No wonder these guys are so culty."

Corey sighed loudly.

At the door, Bray was flanked by Erick Rowan and Luke Harper, as usual. Erick cocked his head, still wearing his sheep mask. Luke grinned at Seth, who quickly hid his face behind Roman's broad back.

"What's he doing here?" Dean's blue eyes had gone icy.

"You've actually hired him as an errand boy?" Bray's eyes danced with mirth as he smiled his creepy smile at Dean. "It suits you, child."

There was a clank, and everyone's eyes widened as Dean put his precious tray of chicken down on the nearest surface.

"What did you say, huh?" Dean's expression was getting stormier and less stable by the second. Quickly, Seth stepped in front of Dean, blocking his view of the Wyatts, and began massaging his temples. "Ssh, calm down. What did we talk about before?"

"Bray Wyatt is just a hairy beach ball," Dean replied sulkily. "Who wears white pants after Labor Day."

"Right. What are you supposed to do with that?"

"Ignore," Dean answered obediently.

"Good. Give me a hug."

Dean rested his head on Seth's shoulder, but with one hand, he made a slitting motion over his throat as his eyes locked back on Bray. After a minute, he pulled away.

"Man, your hair does suck. I just got stabbed in the eye."

Meanwhile, Roman had marched over to them, his expression unfriendly. "What do you want, Wyatts?"

Bray stroked his long, frizzy beard. "I am here as a paying customer. My human vessel's facial hair is getting out of hand. I need to deal with this." He motioned to his disciples. "Theirs too."

Roman was baffled. "Does that kind of thing even matter to you?"

"It's uncomfortable, Roman Reigns. Of course it matters. Duh."

There was a cackle in the background that sounded a lot like Dean.

Roman sighed. "Fine. But Harper has to go."

Bray's eyes widened and he got up in Roman's face. "What did you say?"

Roman glared right back. "I said, Harper has to go. I have a dress code here, didn't you read the sign outside? No undershirts!"

Bray sneered. "I thought you were interesting! I thought you'd be different! But no, you're sheep just like the rest of them! Paying too much attention to the external. You're as plastic!"

Roman raised his eyebrows, but was otherwise unperturbed. "I don't want to hear it, Bray. This is my yard, and he's not coming in here unless he at least washes his shirt."

Bray looked at Luke's stained shirt and seemed to concede. "Go."

"But I just washed it a month ago!" Luke protested.

"You heard the boss. Wait outside."

"You'd think he'd offer to buy me a new shirt," Luke grumbled as he shot one last regretful glance at Seth and left.

Bray crossed his arms. "There, I've toed the line. Now what have you got for me?"

"Numbers," Roman replied, looking smug. "There's a line, and I don't want anyone else cutting in."

Bray's eyes narrowed, but a second later, his round face smoothed out. "I have a business proposition for you. Perhaps you'll reconsider my place in line."

Roman closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten.

"I know someone who will help you bring in the customers even after this initial buzz has died down. Someone beautiful. Someone benevolent. Someone powerful." Bray leaned closer. "Give your salon into the hands of Sister Abigail, Roman Reigns."

"Didn't we see the picture? I wouldn't call that beautiful," Fandango commented in a low voice.

Corey rolled his eyes. "Would you try to keep up? That was just John Cena being his sophomoric self."

"Well, no one's ever seen her! It's possible!"

Roman silenced his employees with a glare. "Thanks for the offer, but I already have my endorsers." He pointed at the couches. "Wait. In. Line. I have people to attend to. And take off that llama mask, redbeard."

Bray, Dean, and Seth countered him at the same time.

"It's a sheep!"

"It's a camel!"

"It's a lamb!"

"And you think I'm uneducated," Bray muttered, looking exasperated. But he nodded at Erick, who obediently removed the mask. The two of them moved to sit down.

Nonplussed, Roman continued, "And I don't want to see you doing any crab-walking to scare my customers, Bray, so don't get any ideas. And make sure that jumpsuit's clean, Rowan—those couches are WHITE."

Bray looked dejected. Satisfied with his handling of the situation, Roman returned to Stephanie. Just as he opened his mouth to ask her what look she wanted, he heard singing from the waiting area.

_And we can't stop__  
__And we won't stop__  
__Can't you see it's we who own the night?__  
__Can't you see it's we who 'bout that life?_

_And we can't stop__  
__And we won't stop__  
__We run things, things don't run we__  
__Don't take nothing from nobody__  
__Yeah, yeah__  
__Yeah, yeah_

_Don't break his heart, his achy breaky heart__  
__I just don't think he'll understand_

_Don't break his heart, his achy breaky heart__  
__I just don't think he'll understand__  
__Oh, oh, oh_

It did not take long before the rest of the waiting room was singing along.

At Roman's aghast face, Triple H chuckled. "You didn't say he couldn't sing."

"Think of it as free entertainment," Stephanie added. "Why do you think we let him do it on live TV? He's a good singer." She snapped her fingers. "Now, back to my hair."

* * *

Seth and Dean had retreated to Dean's couch with the tray. "Who are his endorsers anyway?" Dean asked.

Seth was in the process of snagging a wing and dropped it. Slightly red-faced, he stammered, "He—he hasn't said a thing to me."

"Oh." With that, Dean resumed his feast. But then, he heard the clicking sound of a phone camera. He swiveled his head to find out who it was and found Seth huddled over his phone.

"What, man?" Seth looked up.

"Nothing. I thought someone was taking pictures of us."

Seth shrugged, his attention already back on his phone. "I didn't see a thing." He began typing furiously, not looking up again.

Dean started to pick up another wing, but he heard the clicking sound again. This time, he caught Seth lowering his phone.

He narrowed his blue eyes. "Why are you taking pictures of me?"

Seth looked like a deer caught in headlights. "N—no reason." Dean didn't fail to notice that his fingers were still dancing across the screen of his phone. He lunged for Seth.

"Greasy! Your fingers are greasy!" Seth screeched as he tried to keep his phone from Dean's grasp. But he was too slow, and Dean managed to snatch it away. Dean's jaw dropped when he saw the active app. And what was being broadcasted on it.

"Did you seriously just tweet that?!"

* * *

Daniel Bryan looked slightly put-out as he walked up the street to the large salon in the distance.

"Get rid of my hair or she'll chop it off for me, she says," he muttered. "Fine."

Since their wedding day, his wife, Brie, had been hinting that it was time to get rid of his beard and trim his hair. But for Daniel, this look had become part of him. It was his success story. He couldn't just get rid of the hair. So Brie had dropped the subtlety and gone for the jugular. Afraid of what she could do with a pair of giant scissors, Daniel had finally promised that he would support his friends in the Shield and let them deal with his hair. Roman at least looked like he would know what he was doing.

He smiled and waved at the crowd in front of the salon door, who cheered. Pumped, he began jumping up and down and Yes-ing as he always did before entering the place.

Adam Rose accidentally bumped into him with an armful of pins. "Sorry, dude! I—" Adam broke off as he saw who he had hit.

Daniel did not like the grin that appeared on Adam's face. He liked Adam's next words even less. "Hey Fandango! Look who we have here…"

Fandango was at Adam's side in a flash, twirling a pair of scissors. Now both of them were wearing identical evil grins.

Daniel gulped. "HELP!"

AN again: Special shoutout to one of my favorite bands, Bastille, for their cover of We Can't Stop, which is the version Bray sings in this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

"Beauty is the most essential, and yes, the most misunderstood of qualities." –Stasi Eldredge, _Captivating_

* * *

Everyone jumped at the sound of Daniel's scream.

Adam and Fandango had surrounded the smaller wrestler. Fandango pinched a strand of straw-colored hair between his fingers and sighed, "It must go, It must ALL go."

"No! No! No!" Daniel squeaked.

From behind, someone grabbed him by the collar of his T-shirt and dragged him over to a row of white couches, where Bray Wyatt (_Bray Wyatt?_) appeared to be conducting a choir in a slow version of We Can't Stop.

"Sit down and shut up," Corey Graves snarled.

Not wanting to argue with that tone of voice, Daniel sat down gingerly on the edge of one couch, as far from Bray as possible. "There's food over there," Corey continued. "Help yourself, Except for the chicken."

"Um…thanks." Daniel nodded gratefully at him. Deciding he could use a drink to calm down, Daniel headed over to the buffet table to get a soda.

An iPhone flew past his face. By virtue of his excellent reflexes, he managed to lean back and catch it before it could hit the floor.

"Delete it!" Dean Ambrose was yelling at Seth Rollins, who he appeared to be sitting on.

"No!" Seth retorted. "And stop wrinkling my suit!"

"That's illegal, Seth!"

"Chill out, Dean! It's not a big deal! And I can't breathe!"

"Good!"

Curious, Daniel activated the screen of the phone he was holding. He was looking at Seth's Twitter, which was currently boasting a picture of what appeared to be Dean enjoying a chicken wing. The picture was captioned with, "You know where to find him—at the Magic Room." It had been posted only a couple of minutes ago, but it had already been retweeted and favorited by no less than a hundred people.

Looking up, Daniel saw that Dean had mostly gotten off Seth's stomach, but he still had a hold of Seth's tie. Now, Daniel usually considered himself to be a nice guy, he really did. But even the nicest guys have an impish side, and right now, Daniel's was being tickled.

Stealthily, he raised the phone and snapped a shot of the scene before him. He labelled the picture with, "And you know where to find me" and posted it under Seth's account. He deactivated the app and casually sauntered over to the two Shield members.

"Hey guys, what's up?" he commented.

Dean practically flew off Seth, looking embarrassed. Daniel tried not to grin.

"Think this is yours, Seth," Daniel handed the phone back to its owner.

"Thank you!" Seth frowned at the screen. "Now look what you did, Dean—it's got fingerprints all over it!" Daniel tried to keep a poker face as Seth took out his glasses case and began furiously wiping down the iPhone's screen with a lint-free cloth.

"Then stop taking illegal pictures of me," Dean shot back, pouting, as he reclined back on the couch with a tray of chicken wings.

"Who's taking illegal pictures of you?" Daniel asked innocently.

"_Him_," Dean pointed a chicken bone at Seth. "And he's TWEETING them."

"Roman made me do it, alright?" Seth grumbled, tilting his phone in the light to check if it was clean. "He wants to bring in the females."

Dean blinked. "He what?"

"You have the craziest online fanbase," Seth explained patiently. "Once this gets out on Tumblr, they'll be beating the door down. Take THAT, Sister Abigail. Ro's got Brother Dean." His dark eyes gleamed.

"Ohh. Right." Daniel scratched his bearded chin thoughtfully while Dean backed up slightly.

"So why are you here today?" Seth asked Daniel.

"Brie," Daniel answered simply. "She's had enough of the beard."

"What is it about women and their dislike of facial hair?" Seth ran a hand over his stubble. "Fangirls keep telling me to shave like all the time."

"You too, huh?"

"They keep making comments about how I'm going to get inducted into the Wyatt Family if my beard gets any more out of hand. But dude, you don't win Best Facial Hair at the Slammys by SHAVING."

"Exactly!"Daniel exclaimed. He was beginning to rethink his trimming-and-shaving plan. "I'm going home, and I am telling Brie exactly that!" He started to charge for the door, but a large hand slammed onto his shoulder.

"Nice to see you, Bryan," Roman Reigns said pleasantly. "I told Corey to work on you next so you won't have to wait long."

"Uh, I was just about to—"

"Ye-eah, Brie thought you might, so she gave me a call," Roman patted Daniel's head. "I advise you to sit back down." He turned to Seth. "Stop discouraging my customers, Seth. And believe me, you don't want to grow that beard."

Seth looked chastised. "Sorry, Ro."

"I'll be done with Stephanie soon, so you'll be next." Roman started to walk away, but Dean blocked him with a chicken wing. "Not so fast, bro."

Off Roman's puzzled expression, Dean continued, "Roman, Seth's taking pictures of me in here and tweeting them." His tone was casual, but his eyes were focused like lasers. "What's up with that?"

Roman looked guilty. "Oh. Um. I need to find hair spray. Bye."

"Run, and I'll put this wing on your hair, pretty boy," Dean threatened. Immediately, Roman's hand flew to his long locks protectively.

"Come on, Dean, give me a break," Roman pleaded.

"Hey, I'm just here to eat chicken, alright?" Dean hugged the tray to his chest. "Not to be anyone's Barbie doll."

"I'm not asking you to pose," Roman explained. "Just sit there, eat, and do whatever you want. And you get free food."

"You could have at least told me," Dean sounded wounded.

"Would you even have agreed to come here if I did?"

Dean considered. "I'd be here…somewhere."

"Seth and I will keep you safe from the fangirls, I promise. This is the only thing I'm asking you to do for me. And I wouldn't be asking if I didn't need you." Roman looked pitifully at his friend.

Daniel could see Dean wavering. "Fine. But no more secrets, alright?"

"Deal." Roman quickly pulled Dean into a hug. From his vantage point, though, Daniel did not miss the devious glint in Roman's eye. But he didn't say a word—he was too curious about what Roman had in mind.

"So if Seth's using Dean to bring in the ladies, who's attracting the guys, Roman?" Daniel asked. "Because there's a lot of them too."

"Paige," Roman replied. "She's doing a promotional photoshoot now, but she's coming in after."

"At least _she_ knew," Dean grumbled in the background.

"Mr. Reigns!" Stephanie called. "Are we doing business or having casual conversation?"

"Later." Roman hurried off. "And keep up the marketing, Seth."

* * *

Adam and Fandango stared into the waiting area.

"You call them," Adam muttered.

"No you call them!"

"I don't want to call them!"

"I don't either."

"Tell Roman to call them."

"_You _tell him to call them."

"What is _wrong _with the two of you?" Corey hissed as he came up behind them. "Keep the line moving!"

"Corey, the Wyatts are next," Adam said plaintively as he unwrapped a lollipop and stuck it in his mouth, a usual nervous habit of his. "I don't want to interrupt."

Corey looked at Bray, who had moved on to a rendition of Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. "Who's working on them?"

"We are," Fandango said miserably. "Dude, please take them and let us have Bryan."

Corey looked at Erick and winced. "Hell no. Those two are all yours. Thank goodness Roman kicked Harper out or I'd have to suffer too."

"Hey guys, I couldn't help but overhear you." Daniel came up to the three of them, smiling. "Adam, Fandango, I'll make you a little deal. I'll deal with the Wyatts if you never bother me again."

To his amusement, Adam and Fandango practically knelt at his feet. "Bryan, I'm sorry for everything I've ever said about your hair," Fandango sang out as he shook Daniel's hand so hard, Daniel thought it would snap off.

"You're the swellest guy on the planet!" Adam added. "Have a lollipop!"

Corey's eyebrows were furrowed, as though he were trying to figure things out.

"We have a deal, right?" Daniel repeated.

"No problem!" both of them chorused. "Corey, you're the witness!"

Corey shrugged in silent acceptance.

"Great." Daniel took a deep breath and walked over to Bray. The patriarch of the Wyatt Family stopped singing when he saw Daniel, and the rest of the voices died down.

"If it isn't the little turncoat," Bray growled.

"Look, Bray, I'm not here to cause trouble." Daniel held up his hands. "I just came here to tell you Adam and Fandango are ready for you. And from what I'm told, they're prepared to give you the works."

"Is that so?" Bray rasped.

"Yeah. They're just waiting for you to, uh, finish your service or whatever this is."

Bray motioned for his audience to settle down and turned to Daniel. "Lead on."

Adam and Fandango were congratulating themselves on their good luck when Bray and Erick walked up to them. Both hairdressers stopped smiling.

"Daniel Bryan tells me it's our turn, and that you are prepared to provide royal treatment," Bray intoned. "We're ready."

Adam and Fandango paled. "We had a deal!" they yelled at Daniel.

Daniel grinned. "I promised to call them for you. There they are."

Adam spluttered and almost swallowed his lollipop. He turned to Corey. "Dude!"

"He's right—you had a deal." Corey looked amused. "Come on, Bryan—I'm ready for you too." The two of them walked off to a chair. As Corey got him settled in the chair, Daniel thought to himself how good it felt to be heel again.

Suddenly, there was a blast of flame outside the salon.

* * *

AN: I'm not sure when the next update will be because I'm heading to London for Raw, but rest assured, I'll be working on this story from where I am because the inspiration will surely be strong :) Thanks for the support, and hope you all enjoy the chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

"_Self' flashes off frame and face. What do then? how meet beauty? ' Merely meet it; own, Home at heart, heaven's sweet gift; then leave, let that alone."—Gerard Manley Hopkins, To what serves Mortal Beauty?_

* * *

As quickly as the flames sprang up, they died. Roman, who had been half-poised to spear his way through the door, relaxed a fraction.

"Dean, get the door," he hissed. "See if there's any damage."

"I thought I was only gonna model." But Dean stood obediently and went anyway, maintaining a death grip on his tray. As he got closer, he felt a tingle of nervousness. Carefully, he opened the door by an inch and peeked outside.

"There's nothing," he reported.

"Open it wider," Triple H remarked sardonically. "Of course you don't see a thing."

Dean turned and glared at the WWE COO. He flung the door open so hard, it rattled and Roman squeaked. Immediately, Seth was at Dean's side, murmuring at him to calm down.

"Stop yanking on my hair!" Stephanie snapped at Roman. She turned to her husband and added in a softer tone, "And stop provoking them. If I lose a single strand of hair today, you're going to get it."

"Sorry," Roman and Triple H chorused meekly.

"There really is nothing," Seth assured them. He gestured at the street, which was pristine aside from the confetti and the inevitable bits of trash). There wasn't even a hint of the smell of smoke.

"It's the Wyatts," Adam muttered. "They're bringing ghosts in here!"

Erick glared up at him, and Adam decided it was best not to finish his thought.

"You'll have to ask Bray about that," Erick replied quite conversationally. "I hate ghosts."

"Uh…"

"And I know Bray mentioned a trim, but I'd really like to try something new with my beard. What would you recommend?"

"Uh…" Adam was still flabbergasted.

"Something wrong?"

Adam scrambled. "Erm, sorry…sir. Right." With some effort, he put himself back in stylist mode. "I have styles in mind for you. If you'll hold on for a minute, I'll get you the beard chart."

Adam hurried over to Corey as Erick examined his beard critically in the mirror. Corey was just starting to trim Daniel's hair. In the chair, Daniel looked slightly sick, and he jumped when he saw Adam's head in the mirror. Corey's scissors nearly cut a jagged line along Daniel's nape.

"Stop twitching!" Corey barked. "What, Adam?"

Adam jabbed his lollipop in Erick's direction. "He's _talking._"

Corey shrugged. "So?"

"Like a normal person. He's talking like a normal person. He asked me about beard styles and everything!" Adam couldn't believe the mildness of Corey's reaction.

"Then get to it." Corey poked his scissors at Adam's nose, close enough that he could feel the sharp tip. "Why are you still here?"

Shaking his head, Adam backed off and grabbed the beard chart. It was a large board of beard illustrations he and Fandango had drawn up under the watchful eyes of Roman, Dean, and Seth (this was before Corey was hired) because Roman had refused to accept the one they'd printed off the Internet. Adam was extremely proud of their artistic work on the chart, though most of it had been completed under the threat of a severe beatdown.

Once Adam was out of earshot, Corey leaned over to Daniel. "Rowan's talking like a normal person? Man, that's crazy!"

Daniel only nodded and smiled sheepishly. He was still pale as a sheet.

Adam ambled back to Erick's chair and handed him the chart. He cleared his throat. "I recommend the Van Dyke, in particular."

Erick looked at the drawing of Brad Pitt sporting that particular beard. "I do like it, but do you think it fits my face shape? I don't want to look like I've got a weak chin."

"Quite the opposite!" Adam said. "You'll look very strong. And classy to boot."

Erick's eyes flicked from the drawing to his reflection. "I'll take you at your word then."

Adam picked up his scissors and pondered where to start.

"So, how did you get hired here?" Erick asked.

Adam almost dropped his scissors. Erick making conversation? This was getting stranger and stranger. "Oh…erm…Roman looked me up because he thought my hair met his standards, and I told him I had picked up some experience working with hair from here and there. So, here I am!" He laughed nervously. "Trust me, I'm very qualified." His voice was up to a squeak by the last word.

Erick looked at him with concern. "I think someone's pranking you."

"What?"

"You sound like you inhaled helium."

Adam laughed again. A high, squeaky laugh. "Oh, everything's fine."

"You should find out who did that to you." Erick advised.

After a moment of awkward silence, Erick spoke again. "So, good opening day so far?"

"Were you always this chatty?" Adam blurted out as a chunk of beard fell to the floor.

Erick placed his hands on either arm of his chair as if to stand. Adam gulped. He really needed to learn to control his mental filter. If he lived.

"Has this been the problem all along?" Erick sounded sad. "I'm too talkative?"

"Well, it's not a _problem_, exactly," Adam replied quickly. "I'm just not quite used to it. You're usually so quiet. I'm sorry—it's totally me."

"It's the mask," Erick sighed. "I look and sound creepy in it, but try having a long conversation wearing it and you'll realize it's _deadly_."

"Why'd you get the mask and not Luke Harper?" Adam had always been curious about that.

"You know the type of promos we cut—very mysterious and cult-like. Luke was always better at that than I was," Erick lowered his voice. "Between the two of us, I've always been more of a fun-loving guy."

Adam brightened. "Are we talking the party kind of fun?"

"I have always wanted to join the Exotic Express…"

"You're always welcome!" Adam exclaimed happily. "Join us anytime! I'll show you around myself! And you can play with the bunny, even though he loses all the time."

"Do I get to wear one of those costumes?" Erick asked excitedly.

Adam looked over his tall form, mentally fitting him in the bunny suit. "Yeah, you could totally be the bunny for a day if you want."

"That's a deal!" Erick extended his hand. "Pinky swear?"

* * *

Fandango stared longingly over at Adam and Erick, who were linking pinkies, as he picked up his trimming razor.

Bray was scrolling through his Twitter feed on his phone, completely oblivious as he had been for the past several minutes. As Fandango scraped away at the thick patch of hair on Bray's face. Bray tsked. Fandango paused in case Bray was having an issue with his trim. But Bray simply continued to gaze at his phone. Subtly, Fandango tried to peek at the screen. Bray's head snapped up, and his clear eyes bore into Fandango's. Quickly, Fandango dropped his gaze and concentrated on his work.

Bray chuckled. It was a low, chilling sound, especially coming from the former Husky Harris, who Fandango had once known. His hand quivered, and he looked over at Adam again, who was chattering cheerfully away with Erick Rowan. How was he doing it? Erick had spoken only one word since he showed up with Bray, and here he was, talking a mile a minute as Adam shaped his facial hair into what appeared to be a Van Dyke. Jealousy, unexpected and hot, welled up in Fandango, and he found himself attacking Bray's facial hair with increased intensity.

He had always thought of himself as the most fun, social guy around. He'd even fancied himself to be a mentor to the upstart Adam. But Adam hadn't needed any help. He was livelier. Funnier. Had a cool accent. People just flocked to him and reacted to him, while Fandango was quick to become an afterthought.

Bray looked up briefly to check the progress of his trim. He gave a curt nod. Still absorbed in his thoughts, Fandango paid him no mind.

"Angry?" Bray rasped.

"What? No. Not at all." Fandango gulped and forced a relaxed expression. He sincerely hoped Bray couldn't read emotions. Like that Jasper guy in Twilight. Not that he read Twilight. Except for that one time. And when he was feeling down. Gosh, he wanted to read _New Moon_ now.

"Good." Bray turned his attention back to his gadget. "Rage cannot touch my beard."

Fandango applied a final dose of conditioner to Bray's trimmed beard and ran a fine-toothed comb through it to untangle the frizzy strands. "We're done," he announced.

"This is the royal treatment?" Bray sounded skeptical. "Shouldn't I get a pedicure, at least?"

Fandango practically choked on his own spit. "This is a hair salon!"

"A hot oil treatment?"

Fandango facepalmed in his head. "You got it, sir."

* * *

Outside the door of the salon, Summer Rae tossed her blond curls. Today, she was a woman on a mission.

Through the glass windows, she could see him, holding an armful of hair products and looking peeved. Perfect.

As she entered, Seth Rollins and his terrible hair was making a beeline for her target, phone in hand. "Hold still. Turn that bottle a little—I need to see those labels," he was saying. "And come on, smile! This is for the advertisements!"

"I'll make him smile," Summer announced.

The conversations in the room dropped to a soft hush. Seth gingerly slid out of the way, revealing a scared-looking Fandango. His eyes were shifting desperately from side to side.

Now the day was really looking up.

* * *

AN: Sorry for taking so long, everyone! It's been a crazy month. This chapter isn't as funny as the previous ones, but I hope you all enjoy my attempt at giving Erick Rowan a personality and the little insight into the insecurities of Fandango.

Here's hoping Payback doesn't bring any nasty surprises tonight :D


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